


This Ill-Fitting Skin

by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel



Category: James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Bond Villains, Bond either shoots or explodes everything, Crack, Doctor Who References, F/M, Genderswap, Other, Ridiculousness, Technology, The one where Bond is turned into a woman, idek, what is this i do not even
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 22:08:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel/pseuds/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Bond is turned into a woman by a Bond villain's device, and Q is out of his depth. (He's not really sure what to do about the machine, either.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Ill-Fitting Skin

**Author's Note:**

> So, _Skyfall_ was distinctly less cracky than some of its predecessors. I can fix that!
> 
> ...no, seriously, I am actually ashamed.

** This Ill-Fitting Skin **

“I – that’s not possible,” says Q helplessly, when he registers what the machine has _done._ “A machine can’t simply–”

He can’t say it. It’s too ridiculous.

Bond isn’t answering. He – Q doesn’t care how inaccurate that pronoun is at present, _Bond is a he_ – is too busy undoing the top buttons of his suddenly ill-fitting suit, displaying – 

Q hastily looks elsewhere. He glares when he notices Sanjit unabashedly staring at the screen showing the view down the front of Bond’s shirt.

“Q.” Bond’s voice is flat and utterly without inflection. “I have _breasts._ ”

“Yes,” Q says faintly. “I can see that. We can all see that, actually, so perhaps you’d like to do up your top buttons again, or adjust the camera to point elsewhere?”

A hand reaches up to where the camera is hidden, and after a second Q realises that the camera isn’t merely being adjusted, but completely removed.

A moment later Q’s screen shows a pretty, slightly-desperate face with intimidatingly sharp, cold blue eyes.

“Q,” says the woman Q refuses to accept is Bond. “ _Fix this._ ”

“Um.” Q has never, ever in his life, been so out of his depth. “I’ll …try?”

Then, before he can stop her, Bond pulls out a gun and repeatedly shoots the machine responsible for her chromosomal change.

“Oh yes, that’s helpful,” Q snipes, “I’m sure it will be so much easier to reverse the process now you’ve _shot the machine responsible._ ”

The camera tilts as Bond puts it in her pocket, and for a second Q gets a look at her face.

Bond doesn’t look satisfied at her irresponsible destruction of technology. Mostly, she looks miserable. 

Q wonders how this is his life.

* * *

Bond is flown back to HQ as soon as possible – there were some delays due to the fact that all his papers were for a 40-something _male_ citizen, not a female one – along with the sex-change machine.

Q isn’t prepared for this. This isn’t real life. This is like something out of bad fanfiction. Not that Q reads fanfiction. It’s not like he secretly reads Avengers fanfiction. And he certainly hasn’t been reading ridiculous magical genderswap fic to help him get a handle on where his life has taken him. No.

When Q arrives early on Wednesday morning there’s a middle-aged woman with shoulder-length blonde hair wearing a well-cut woman’s suit – Moneypenny’s selection, Q judges, considering the style – sitting at his desk.

Q isn’t used to seeing women without makeup. It’s different.

“We haven’t made any progress as yet,” he says before Bond can open her mouth. “We’re still trying to work out how the accursed thing _works,_ nevermind repairing the damage from where someone _shot it,_ thank you so much for that.”

“I’m a woman,” Bond points out, as though he considers this excuse enough for shooting something. He probably does.

“Yes, well, fixing you will probably take longer, now,” Q tells her, mentally adding _if we can even fix you at all._ He doesn’t say that out loud, because he likes people to think he’s capable of everything, and because Bond looks a hair-trigger away from a psychotic break.

Q is momentarily distracted by the thought of whether, if Bond _did_ have a psychotic break, any of them would be able to tell? He decides that isn’t his problem, and leaves it up to the Psych department to handle. He fixes tech, not people.

Bond follows him as he goes to see how the minions are doing on their analysis of the machine. Q gets to work. Bond hovers.

After half an hour of Bond making stoically sad eyes at him, Q cracks.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, you can’t just stay in here all day,” he snaps, halfway through directing one of his minions on how to disassemble one of the machine components, rounding on 007. Bond looks faintly surprised. “I’ve got a prototype flamethrower. You can go test it in the practical experiments labs.”

Q stalks out to find the flamethrower. Bond follows in silence. He outfits her with safety gear, tells her that her next gun will be a girl gun if she takes any of it off, and leaves her in Prac Lab 1 with the flamethrower and a list of tests to undertake, and returns to examining the sex-change machine.

Fifteen minutes later, the fire alarms go off.

“You set fire to the _light fixture_ ,” Q says flatly, after they’ve all been evacuated, and he finds the person responsible.

At least she’s still wearing her safety gear. That’s something.

Bond’s mouth tilts up at the corner the tiniest bit. Q _stares_ , because suddenly her face is impish, and it completely changes how she looks. 

“Not on purpose.”

Q pulls himself together before Bond can notice his reaction.

“I don’t even know how it’s possible to set fire to the light fixture,” he complains. “Next time you’re getting a babysitter.”

Bond just kind of smiles at him, as though everything’s fine, seeing as she got to make something burn.

Q waits until everyone is allowed back inside, shuts himself in his office, sits down, and lets his forehead make contact with the top of his desk.

He’s always had a bit of a crush on River Song, and now he has her real-life equivalent to deal with.

This… could be a slight problem.

* * *

Over the next week or so, Q grows somewhat accustomed to having Bond around all the time. She even proves unexpectedly helpful when the sex-change machine catches fire, putting it out using the fire extinguisher and proving that she was listening more closely than Q thought when he showed her where all the emergency equipment was in case of future conflagrations.

On the ninth day however, Q walks in to find Bond wearing full makeup, including a truly devastating shade of red lipstick. He immediately walks out again, and goes to find Moneypenny.

“You’re the one who gave her makeup, aren’t you?” Q demands without preamble. “How could you? She was distracting enough as it was!”

It takes Moneypenny a moment to work out what he means, but then her eyes flare with realisation.

Q scowls as she starts laughing at him.

“Oh, Q, _really?_ ” she chuckles. 

“It isn’t funny,” Q insists darkly. “I need to be able to focus. I spend my time dealing with things that explode.”

For some reason, this only makes Moneypenny laugh harder.

“Of course,” she manages after a second. “ _Of course_ you like her, you love dangerous things that involve explosions!”

Q gives up on any kind of assistance and stalks away again, Moneypenny’s laughter trailing behind him.

* * *

“This is getting very boring,” Bond tells Q.

The problem is, Q thinks, that all the things he mildly resents in other men – an ‘alpha’ sort of attitude, superior height, a preference for using violence to solve problems, aggressive self-confidence, overactive sexuality – are things that Q really, _really_ likes in women. As a man, Bond was someone Q didn’t particularly like, but respected; as a woman, It’s a whole different story.

“I never would have guessed,” Q snarks mildly, and doesn’t chastise her when she picks up what he’s working on and looks at it.

A passing minion gives Q an indulgent, pitying look. Q pay her no notice.

“There’s not actually very much I can do to stop you from being bored,” Q adds. Then, because apparently he likes to torment himself: “You should ask Moneypenny to teach you woman things. Maybe they’ll put you back on missions if you can act like a woman convincingly.”

Bond goes still. Q removes the device from her hand and makes adjustments while she goes all inscrutable and thoughtful.

“You’re not going to have me fixed any time soon, are you,” Bond says finally. It’s not a question.

“At this point,” Q replies, eyeing some wiring with an absent frown, “I’m not even sure I’m going to have you fixed at all.”

There’s silence, and he glances a Bond’s expression. It’s resigned, as though Bond had considered this as a possibility, but isn’t happy about it.

“Sorry,” Q says regretfully. “I suggest you practise applying makeup yourself and walking in high heels. Also, you should know that some men have trouble with assertive women.” 

“I’ve noticed,” Bond says dryly. She gives him a shrewd look. “You don’t.”

“No.” Q doesn’t look at her. “I don’t.”

He wonders what sort of problems people have been giving her. He resolves to find out who’s responsible later. 

* * *

After two months of Bond being a woman, Q and Bond are called into M’s office for a debriefing regarding the situation.

As they sit in the chairs in front of M’s desk Q sees Bond give M a sort of speculative, heavy-lidded look and wants to bash his head in on the corner of the desk, because _God, really._

M, of course, ignores the look, and asks Q to update him on the situation. Q is forced to admit that Q Branch still don’t know how to operate the sex-change machine, and Q doesn’t have any real idea of when they will.

M doesn’t seem surprised by Q’s assessment. He looks weary.

“I’m afraid that the… machine–” Q finds it amazing, the delicate way everyone refers to the sex-change machine and what it does, “–is taking up too much of Q Branch’s time and resources. While returning 007 to her… usual form would be helpful, it’s a low priority next to the rest of Q Branch’s responsibilities.”

M looks genuinely apologetic as he tells them this, but resolute. He meets Bond’s eyes. Bond looks wary. 

“Moneypenny tells me that you’ve been adjusting to your changed circumstances relatively well, and that with continued training it will be possible to send you out as a female agent. Admittedly, womanhood isn’t something we usually train for, but Moneypenny believes that in your case, it’s an important investment.”

Bond looks pleased at the prospect of being an agent again, even if it’s as a woman. M discusses the situation some more, and then dismisses them.

“There you go, then,” Q tells Bond, as they leave M’s office.

“I hate heels,” Bond replies.

“I would have thought they suited your masochistic personality.”

Bond gives Q a _look_.

“You get into fights. On purpose,” Q states matter-of-factly. “You get yourself punched and stabbed and thrown off buildings and blown up, because you like the adventure. And you do it all in a suit to impress women.”

“That’s not why I wear a suit.”

But Bond’s eyes are smiling, even if the rest of her face is serious.

“Think of the heels as part of the equivalent of a suit,” Q says idly. “Together with a little red dress I’m sure you’ll look stunning.” Q doesn’t allow his inflection to change: it’s the same tone he uses when he’s telling Bond how to use his latest piece of tech. But Bond gives him a vaguely amused, knowing look, and says, 

“I’m glad you think so,” and Q feels himself faintly blushing.

A moment later he heads down towards Q Branch, and Bond heads in a different direction.

This cannot go well, Q thinks, depressed.

* * *

Bond’s first mission as a woman goes quite well, for a Bond mission (for anyone else, that many explosions and people being shot would be considered a right cock-up, but this is Bond, so everyone accepts it as standard).

It’s four in the morning and nothing is happening, so Q is tinkering with the sex-change machine to pass the time, when he is suddenly aware of being watched.

Q turns, to see Bond standing in the doorway. Her hair is cut in a stylish fashion, and she’s wearing a tight red dress the same colour as her lipstick. She looks like hell in high heels.

Q swallows.

“I wasn’t aware you had returned from your mission.”

Bond smiles at him. It’s a casual smile, but with the promise of something more, if he wants it.

Q tells himself firmly that that would be a horrible, horrible idea.

“I caught an earlier plane,” Bond says simply, walking forward. Her hips sway as she moves.

Her eyes never look away from Q.

“I still don’t have–” Q begins, but is cut off by Bond curling a hand around the back of his neck and pressing herself close.

Her lipstick is very, very red.

Q has been trained in resistance techniques, but there are some things there is just no training for. Bond is one of them.

* * *

Six months after Bond’s involuntary sex change, Q works out how to reverse it.

He tells M first – the man is clearly pleased at the prospect of having his best _male_ agent available again – and then goes to inform Bond herself.

From where she’s sitting on the edge of his desk, Bond contemplates the shiny red Louboutins she’s wearing and doesn’t say a word. 

“I assume you intend to resume your previous sex,” Q says, but there’s a slight question in his tone.

“Yes,” Bond says finally. Her lips quirk as she meets his eyes. “Physically, missions are a lot less wearing. And I miss wearing suits and not being constantly underestimated because I’m female.”

“Right then.” Q keeps his voice and expression absolutely professional. “In that case, we should find you some men’s clothes to change into.”

Afterward, Bond straightens his tie and smiles, all masculine edges and cold eyes, and Q tells himself not to be a fool.

It’s probably far, far too late.

* * *

Q expects things to return to normal, and in a way, they do. Bond goes on dangerous missions and blows things up and seduces women everywhere he goes, and exasperates M and destroys or loses all of Q’s tech.

But after Bond’s first mission as a man again, Q wanders out of his bedroom to find a double-O agent asleep on his sofa.

Q blinks at him, before deciding that he needs tea before he can think about this.

One cup of tea later, he sits on the armchair opposite the sofa and stares at Bond.

Q thinks about how much he came to enjoy Bond’s company while he was a woman during all the days Bond spent hanging around in Q Branch, and the fact that man or woman, Bond is just the same.

“You know,” Q says tartly, when Bond opens one eye and looks at him, “you might not be aware of this, but normal people don’t break into other people’s houses, even if they’re friends.”

Bond’s mouth twitches, but he also relaxes almost imperceptibly.

“There’s chocolate milk in the fridge, if you want some,” Q adds.

“Do you have any Scotch?”

“You are not drinking my scotch for breakfast, Bond.”

Bond goes to the cupboard where Q keeps the scotch anyway.

Q decides to let it slide, for once.

“You know,” Bond offers, after a thoughtful silence, “You’d make a lovely woman.”

“ _Never ever_ say that again.”

** END **

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this right after I saw Skyfall, when it first came out? But yes, there was shame.


End file.
